


oh how the mighty fall

by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angry Sex, Frottage, Hate Sex, M/M, Partner Betrayal, Underage Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/HaleHole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>hopira asked for: I want a fic/drabble/prompt in which Derek and Jennifer are together and Stiles goes all protective/jealous over that. So, he go to Derek’s loft and start to ask him why is he trusting so quickly in her and things like that. The discussion grow and they end up having hate!?sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh how the mighty fall

**Author's Note:**

> **warning for partner betrayal (and Stiles being underage/16)**

This all wrong. This isn’t the way Stiles thought it would be, his first time that is. The worst part of it (probably maybe possibly potentially most likely), is that the fact that Derek and Ms.Blake are going out isn’t what’s sticking out as ‘wrong’ to Stiles. Nor is the fact that he and Derek were yelling things at each other barely 20 minutes ago.  
  


No, he’s more pissed that the the wrong part is that his back is being rubbed raw against bricks and that he liked that shirt God dammit! “Why do you always have to be such an impulsive ass?!” Stiles hisses, hands tugging hard on Derek’s jeans zip. He may or may not be trying to break it in retaliation.   
  


Derek’s hands slap his away, pulling the material down and away so that he can slide his bare hips against Stiles, cock rubbing against the younger man’s hips. “I don’t know.” Derek pushes out through clenched teeth, eyes dark with anger and something Stiles doesn’t want to think too deeply about. “Why can’t you keep your nose out of other people’s business?”  
  


This is wrong. He’d imagined his first time in a bed, with someone soft and curvy (preferably with long, strawberry blonde curls and a citrus sweet scent). Not against the wall with his jeans hanging off one foot and a guy lining their cock so right that Stiles’ head slams back into the bricks. He grunts at the pain, hips fucking up into Derek’s hand (so big so hot so tight its just right just perfect). “B-because it’s oooo fuck tighter yeah like that! my…my business too.”  
  


"Fuck." Derek curses, nose and teeth tugging his t-shirt collar to the side before he latches onto Stiles’ neck like he’s a vampire or something and begins to suck and bite until Stiles feels like an oversized teething toy. "Why can’t you trust me? I know what I’m doing!"  
  


That is just so fucking hilarious that Stiles has to laugh (It doesn’t matter if it comes out sounded fucking wrecked because it’s the principle of the matter). “Trusting someone who you barely know doesn’t sound like that at all.” How he manages to get that out in one breath, Stiles doesn’t know. But he’s glad he does before the angry look that Derek gives him (coupled with the angry thrust up against his cock) steals his breath away.  
  


One large hand sinks into his hair and tugs his head back. Tears sting Stiles’ eyes and a whimper crawls up and hides under his tongue. “Maybe it’s because  _she_ trusts me.” Derek snaps, hips and hand moving at a frantic, brutal pace that’s keeping Stiles on the edge of breathlessness.   
  


The last three words hurt, hurt more than they should. How can Derek not trust him? It’s not like he hasn’t saved his life on more than one occasion. Or helped him out in one way or another without asking for anything in return. What the hell else is he supposed to do to get this idiot’s trust? Grow boobs and get hair extensions? “Fuck you.” Stiles retaliates, pushing his hand down between them.   
  


It’s all wrong when he tries his best to make Derek orgasm first. He wants to see Derek break first, like it’s some kind of fucking competition. This wasn’t supposed to happen - he wasn’t supposed to stare in awe when Derek’s face crumples into an expression of pained pleasure as he comes in sticky spurts over Stiles’ hand, he wasn’t supposed to get jerked off by a rough hand that was surprisingly gentle on him and he  _definitely_ wasn’t supposed to know how stubble burn felt on his chin and cheeks.  
  


"I don’t get you." Stiles says after they’ve gotten dressed again, wanting to fill this new chasm that’s sprung up now between them. He fingers the torn edge of his plaid shirt, wondering what lie he can spin to explain the tear.   
  


Derek looks tired, more tired than Stiles has ever seen. “I don’t get you either.” That…Stiles feels a lump growing in his throat, choking off whatever else he had planned on saying. So he shakes his head, ignores the burn in his thighs and walks out of the loft without looking back.


End file.
